


Winner Takes All

by Farscapegeek



Series: You Can Do Better Than That Verse [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Action & Romance, All the Bets, Ancient History, Betting, Big Gay Love Story, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bottom Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Crusades Era Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Darts, Depressed Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Drinking & Talking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fun facts about history, Gen, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Acting Like a Married Couple, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Kama Sutra, Killing, Language Barrier, Longest meet cute story ever, M/M, Michaelangelo - Freeform, Nicky has a roman nose, Nile Freeman is So Done, No Beta, Origin Story, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Pseudo-History, References to Mozart, References to Shakespeare, Sailing, Shakespearean Sonnets, Temporary Character Death, That Time In Malta, Top Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Torture, What Happened in Malta (The Old Guard), You can do better than that, farming, so much research, so so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farscapegeek/pseuds/Farscapegeek
Summary: Nile just wanted to know why Nicky, Joe and Andy kept betting each other about every damn thing. She makes the mistake of asking and they take great delight in weaving their tale with far more detail and diversions she ever thought possible.She learns it is the phrase "You can do better than that" that produced many lively bets and challenges over the centuries. We go on a journey with starting with Nicky and Joe betting they can kill the other better,  then evolving to basic survival techniques. Meeting Andy and Quynh brings an added challenge because after you live for a couple centuries there isn't much you haven't mastered. The bets continue through time with learning art in the renaissance, poetry with Shakespeare, music with Mozart and ends when they discover the english translation of the Kama sutra.AKA living forever is boring so betting livens things up.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: You Can Do Better Than That Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169363
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55
Collections: The Old Guard Big Bang





	Winner Takes All

**Author's Note:**

> Wow what a long journey to get to this point! 
> 
> This all started for me out of the love for the comics and movie of course. I took on the project to avoid losing all functional brain cells during lockdown over the holidays and lockdowns. But I had a lot of fun writing it in the end.
> 
> I did a ton of research and got to put in some of my favorite fun facts about history. 
> 
> And of course I was aided in this collaboration by the lovely [smilebackwards](/users/smilebackwards/)
> 
> What an amazing video that was created!

It all came to a head when they were somewhere in India, still trying to stay off the radar after the Merrick incident. Nile thought at first they would stick out like sore thumbs, but where better to hide than in a nation with one billion other people Joe had said. Andy had used it as a training opportunity, trying to teach Nile how to blend in seamlessly. Nicky and Joe had dragged her out of the house claiming she just had to experience the markets herself. She saw Joe and Nicky arguing at a food stand over some sort of candy.

“No no I just found this place. Andy will definitely be stumped.” stated Nicky.

Joe replied "they had for sure already tried that stand with Andy 50 years ago. But they hadn’t tried the stand two markets over. Those gulab jamun would definitely stump Andy.”

Nile stood there frowning at them as their argument dissolved into some language she definitely did not know, and that probably hadn’t been spoken in mass by anyone in 500 years. 

Just last night she had heard Nicky say to Joe that he could do better than that while Joe was making pulao. That had led to the pair of them sharing the kitchen and playfully bantering the whole while. Nike wasn’t sure if all their bets were food related but she didn’t want to complain too much. Especially since both pulaos had been the bomb. Secretly she thought Joe's was better. The dinner had been tense with both men leveling expectant glances at Andy. Andy had muttered something in what might have been Greek that had had Nicky pouting and slinking off to do the dishes in the kitchen. 

And now that she thought about it she realized the bets weren’t just limited to food. There was the competition of who could hot wire a car faster in Germany (Nicky), who could get a room faster in Budapest (Andy), and the haggling for tea incident that had them leaving Istanbul far sooner than they planned. 

They got home that evening with a pile of fresh goods from the market (and yes they had dragged her two markets over to get a candy that looked identical to the one they already had picked up) and Joe shouted for Andy as soon as they entered the safe house who had stayed behind to talk with Copley about their next mission. Andy came wandering into the room and sighed when both men thrust the boxes with the candy at her. 

“I don’t know why I thought I might get a reprieve from this with Booker gone” she sighed. 

At that Nile blurted out “A reprieve from what?”

Three sets of eyes slowly swiveled in her direction. 

Nicky smiled a smile that had Nike inching back a bit. She had seen him just last week make a sniper shot that would make any army weep. If Nicky wanted you dead you wouldn’t even see it coming. 

“Nile! Come join me! You’ll take my side won’t you?” He asked. 

“Uhhhh” she sent a desperate “please save me'' look towards Andy. 

Andy just snorted. 

“If Nile is going to side with anyone it should be me,” Joe stated. 

“Ok guys just what the fuck is going on? What’s with the betting? The hotwire incident, the tea disaster, the rice last night and now this food thing with Andy.” 

Andy let out a big laugh then and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, skipping a glass, from the kitchen then sat on the couch. “Grab a bottle yourself kid. You are in for a long story if you wanna know about the bets.” 

Nile hesitantly grabbed a bottle of rum herself along with a glass because someone in the house had to drink not straight from the bottle, and settled on the couch by Andy. Joe and Nicky who were now beaming at each other grabbed a bottle of wine to share (and no glass she noted) and settled in the loveseat. 

“I mentioned that first night that Nicky and I killed each other many times yes?” Joe asked.

Nile nodded wondering what that had to do with the betting. 

“Well then there begins our story…”

***** *****

Nicolò stood frozen on the ship as he watched the men tumble to the ground as they tried in vain to get the siege towers closer to the walls of Antioch. The Genoese ships were blocking the harbor so the Saracens could not escape or go for supplies. But they had long ago exhausted their own supplies and had yet to break through the walls. They had been at the city for months now and those that were left were starving with more men disappearing nightly. Nicky had fought some skirmishes near the ships but had yet to go to the wall, but with the numbers they had he knew his time would soon come.

He sighed, gripping his battle axe as the shouts around him grew more urgent. He didn’t even belong here. Not really. Nicolò had grown up as an orphan raised by the church. He had run along the docks stealing what he could to survive until a kindly old priest had offered him a roof over his head and a chance at a different life. Becoming a priest was a matter of fact, he had never wanted to become anything else. Not since Father Luca had shown him he could repent for his past deeds and maybe help others like he had been helped. The simple pleasures of giving mass and going fishing at dawn were all he needed to feel fulfilled.

Then the rumors had started about a campaign to retake the holy land. They had come to his parishes doors recruiting for the holy war. He had volunteered in order to spare the other elder priests the hardships of war. So instead of doing early mass he was taught to fight and all about the savages that currently held the holy city. His once innocent heart was corrupted by the lies Hugh of Châteauneuf and his followers told the faithful. It would be some years however, before he learned those were lies.

He was brought out of his contemplation by the shouts of his commander. It was time for them to go to the main battlefield then. He marched down the gangway with the rest of soldiers and they started their trudge to the wall. Halfway there his commander shouted his name and he ran to his commander who stood there next to a horse with a dead soldier lying on the ground next to him. The man looked gaunt, another death to starvation then. 

His commander wearily peered at him. “Nicolò you were a strong rider in training, and you have excellent aim if I remember correctly. Congratulations, you are now cavalry.”

Nicolò caught the spear his commander tossed at him and then glanced at the horse. At least his feet wouldn’t hurt from the marching.

It would be the screams that would haunt Nicolò forever. The sound of dying. Men screaming as the swords were plunged in their guts, the gurgle of those slowly dying, the desperate pleas to please just end it. It all swirled around him as he fought desperately to stay on his mount. He was near a siege tower when something made him glance up at the wall. 

Later he would say it was fate, that it was destiny that made him look up. When he looked up he saw the archer with his bow drawn back aimed at him. It was pure instinct that had him reaching for his spear and hurling it in the archers direction. The searing pain in his chest knocked him clean off his horse as the arrow hit home. As he lay there dying, he hoped that his spear was guided by God and had found his target. With one last wet gasp Nicolò died for the first time.

***

When Yusuf woke for the first time after dying it was dark. He struggled to push himself up and saw the other dead bodies in rows next to him. Looking down at his chest he felt and could see no wound. His last memory was of a Frank throwing a spear in his direction and the pain as it met the mark. Yusuf knew he should be dead right now, after all he had clearly been placed with the other dead in preparation of burial. He recognized several others that had been stationed on the wall along with him. Could see the basins and shrouds that would soon wrap the dead, likely at first light. If they were able to hold the city that long. 

None of this made sense. The pale eyes of the man that killed him were burned into his brain, every time he blinked he saw the face. He could only hope that his aim was true and his arrow had killed his enemy as the spear had killed himself. Or at least should have killed him. Pinching himself brought pain so he assumed he was actually alive and this wasn’t the afterlife.

As the middle son of a wealthy merchant he had been proud to bring his family honor and defend the holy land. Yusuf was skilled in battle and was one of the commanders of the defense of the wall.The wall they had successfully defended for months was the only thing keeping the city safe from the invaders.

He could hear screams and the sound of metal on metal outside the door. Yusuf stumbled onto the street clad only in his torn armor, there had been no weapons inside with the other dead. Following the torchlight and the screams he hurried along to the point of battle. So the walls had definitely been breached while he layed dead then, the Franks were now pillaging the city. If he was dead and this was the afterlife then Allah had a crude sense of humor in his Akhirah.

He saw a dead fellow soldier next to a house and muttering apologies ransacked his body for weapons. Armed with a mace he charged once more into the fray. Rounding a corner Yusuf smacked right into a body that sent him floundering back a few steps. 

“You!” he exclaimed when he realized he had literally ran into the man that had killed him earlier. 

The pale eyes of his enemy widened in surprise and fear. He spat something at him in his own language and raised the battle axe he carried. 

Switching to Greek in the hopes the Frank would understand him even as he raised his mace in defense.“You! I killed you just as you killed me.” 

“I was clearly blessed by God in order to be able to continue in the quest to retake the Holy City.” the man replied wildly thrusting his axe at him.

Yusuf parried easily. “If your God wanted you to live then mine clearly did as well.” With a lunge he struck out with his mace and knocked the Franks axe from his hands.

Fumbling backwards quickly the man clumsily reached for the bow he had strapped on his back and tried to notch an arrow.

Grinning Yusuf advanced quickly and easily dodged the arrow inexpertly sent his way. “Oh come on now Frank, you can do better than that.” With that said he quickly bashed the ball of his mace into the foreigners face. Maybe he would stay dead this time.

***  
When Nicolò awoke the second time being killed by the same Saracen bastard it was dark. He could hear some isolated screams from far away but the streets near him were mostly deserted. Except for the dead. The dead lined the streets, the corpses by now picked clean of any valuables. 

Looking down at himself he realized if was to return to his people he desperately needed a change of clothes. The gashes, tears, and bloodstains covered him. The clear holes in his dented armor told a tale of injuries he no longer had. He eventually found a suitable replacement for his armor from the dead on the streets and after ducking into several houses found some clothes to go underneath them. Muttering prayers to be forgiven for stealing Nicolò quickly changed then slowly made his way back to camp. The dead civilians along the streets turned his stomach. He could hardly believe his own people would be so savage. Yes the quest to retake the holy land was important, but was the cost of their souls worth it?

The celebration was raging at camp. The spoils of war were being passed along, with most of the camp drunk on wine and their bellies full for the first time in months. He stopped and grabbed some food and drink himself before he wandered away to the edge of camp. He knew he needed to eat but his stomach churned with the events of the past...day? Two day? He had no idea how long he had been dead the first time. 

Nicolò could remember the pain as the arrow had pierced above his collarbone and into his neck. He remembered the pain of falling from his mount and the blackness that soon shrouded his vision. And he vividly remembered his throw of his lance towards the man that killed him. Just before his world went black he remembers seeing the lance hit his mark and he felt a sense of satisfaction that at least the man who killed him would soon die himself. Waking up on the battlefield hours? Days? Later had been disorienting to say the least. 

It had been dark when he had awoken with a gasp. The arrow that had struck him lay by his side bloodied but not in him anymore. He felt his neck wondering if someone had pulled it out and bandaged him up. But he felt no bandage nor a wound. Was he dead then? Was this heaven? But why would heaven be the very battlefield he had died on? Unless this was hell and he was doomed to eternal damnation. He had thought that going on this just crusade to retake the holy land in His name would earn him his place in heaven. But maybe he had been mistaken.

Saying a quick prayer of reconciliation he had made his way into the city whose walls had been breached by then. The chaos had overwhelmed him. Civilians were running out of their homes as they were being ransacked and burned. As they tried to flee his own people were brutally slaughtering them. Women and children were not even being spared with the violence done by his own people. Sparing a moment to be sick Nicoló had tried to gather his strength to continue. 

When he had continued that’s when he had run into his foe who once again killed him. And once again he had awoken with no wound. He had to believe that he had been blessed to continue in this holy crusade. Why else would he still be alive if not to be the ultimate warrior of God? But his enemy had bested him twice now. He had to train more so he was not mocked again. 

Sleeping was difficult. He was haunted by dreams of two women. In it they were in a mountainous region that had snow, even as Nicolò suffered under the heat of the upcoming summer. The two women had had weapons all around them as they sat in a cave, sheltering from the snow and laughing around a fireplace. He had never met either of them before but God had to be showing them to him for a reason. He just wasn’t sure what it was yet. 

The following day Nicolò made his way to the archery master. “Sir Calimero. Please I request your help. I need to learn from you. To be as good as you.” 

“Have you not had training with me before young one?”

“Nicolò di Genova sir. And not with you specifically. I had the basic training when I was conscripted but they kept me as a ship guard for most of the siege. During the battle I was briefly with the cavalry but was knocked from my horse with an arrow. When it came to it I could not return the volley with an arrow of my own. I do not wish to be that helpless again. “

“Very well young Nicolò di Genova. I will teach you to master archery. Let us first see what we have to work with.“ Leading him to the edge of camp where the training fields had been set up master Calimero handed him a bow and arrow. “That target there in the middle.“

Getting into a stance Nicolo hefted the bow, notched the arrow and released it. It hit the edge of the target and he sighed.

“Ahh, you have a good eye Genova, but your stance is all wrong. Don’t worry I will soon have you sorted. Soon you will be able to hit any target you desire, even on horseback.”

During the next two weeks Nicolò had never had such sore arms. Some mornings when he awoke they hurt so much he could barely dress himself. But every day he improved. They started with work on his stance and then he spent endless hours just drawing back the bow and holding in place. His arms shook and sweat rolled into his eyes but he stood still. “Muscle memory is a funny thing Nicolò. Once your body knows it will not forget. In the heat of battle your mind becomes occupied. But your muscles will never forget.”

Calimero praised him for his aim as he had a gift for hitting things from a distance. His gift was put to the test once he started him with archery on horseback. His lessons expanded to riding lessons. He was a passable rider but that too needed to be muscle memory if he was to focus on battle. Luckily they were told to move out, the ride to Jerusalem had begun. He took any spare moment he could training to become a better fighter. At night when he should be sleeping he practiced fighting with his sword. 

When he had first started on this journey he had been too poor to afford a sword. That was kept for the nobleman and the knights. The rest of them were left with lances, axes, and weapons cobbled together from farming equipment. After taking the city he had been given a sword retrieved from one of the dead. So at night he practiced. He would not be bested again.

They lost many more on the road, the food sources they had stolen from Antioch having run dry. But at last they made it to the Holy City. It was strange, he had long desired to see Jerusalem with his own eyes. To pray in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and see the empty tomb. Maybe at one of the most holy sites on Earth God would speak to him on why he was letting him live. 

Nicolò was set to a patrol and spent his time riding along the outer walls of Jerusalem learning the lay of the land. The city was well defended and the Saracens were making the most of their highly defensible position. Any food and water was gone or poisoned for miles around. He had the misfortune of drinking some poisoned water and that had not been a pleasant way to die. They were forced to go far afield for supplies for an already weary army. Their initial attack failed as they struggled to build the necessary weapons of war. 

The building of their siege towers and their battering ram was taking time, too much time for some of the starving soldiers. Any wood was gone and burnt so they were forced to wait for supplies from the Genoan fleet. The weather was not helping much, the heat increasing by the day pushing the soldiers to the brink. 

When put on building duty Nicolò was pretty sure he himself had died at one point or another. He remembers passing out from the heat and dehydration but he was not sure if he had died that time as well. He was just so tired and hungry all the time, it made his nightly training difficult. Word arrived one day of a muslim force advancing from the North so the generals decided it was time to begin their attack. 

Nicolò rode with the others on horseback. He clutched his arrow and fired off as many shots as he could at the soldiers trying to pick them off from the wall. The Fatimids had several trebuchets they were using to pick off swaths of their forces with each volley. He was quite close to the wall when the whole ground shook and he lost his seat on his mount. Nicolò heard chunks of the wall crumble down as the Northern gate was breached. Screams filled the air as the forces around him rushed into the breach and into the city. 

He ran into the city with the others and climbed onto the wall. He knew he could do the most good perched up high, using his arrows to pick off anyone that challenged their forces. It was there on the wall that Nicolò again met his nemesis. The one that had first killed him. Before his enemy could react he notched an arrow and sent it flying right into his enemies chest. 

Smirking he walked up to his enemy and knelt, “You said I could do better than that last time. How did I do this time?” He watched as the man gasped wetly and then was shocked when the man laughed. 

“Better, but you should still never underestimate your enemy, even if they are dying.” With that Nicolò felt a stab of pain in his gut and fell surprised next to his enemy. Together they bled out on the wall as the city burned and fell in front of them. He watched the light fade from his enemies eyes as his own grew heavy. He wondered if he would wake up again now his destiny of helping to take the city was achieved, or if it was finally time for him and this cursed soldier to finally rest.

***** *****

“Wow so you all really weren't lying about killing each other many times. But seriously all the betting started off of daring each other to kill the other better?” Nile asked.

Nicky just shrugged at that. “It was a time of war, and we were on opposite sides. I had been taught to hate his people, I did not know my enemies heart then as I know it now.” Reaching up Nicky brought Joe’s hand to his mouth in a gentle kiss. 

“And you call me the incurable romantic.” Joe said with a smile in his voice. 

“So how long did it take you two to stop killing each other?” Nile asked curiously.

“Oh years at least. I lose track of how many after all this time.”

“You killed each other for YEARS?”

“Like Nicky said, we had been taught to hate each other…”

****  
When Yusuf awoke the battle was swirling around him. The arrow clattered to the ground as he sat up. Immediately he was on guard and tried to scamper away as the Frank was still there. The Frank scurried away from as well, clutching the dagger that Yusuf had thrust in his gut. 

“Why won’t you just stay dead! My people have taken the Holy City, this curse should end now.”

“Curse?”

“What else would this be? Cursed to stay alive so we could retake what is rightfully ours.”

“And did your God also tell you to slaughter all the innocents in your way like you did in Antioch?”

The Frank faltered at this, “I never killed a civilian, only soldiers.”

“Well I wish I could say the same for your people. Look at the destruction they cause.” Yusuf said, sweeping his hand towards the city. 

In the city the battle raged. The Franks swept through the city massacring anyone in their path. The streets ran red from the blood of all the fallen. This time they did not even wait to ransack houses before they simply set them alight leaving those inside to be burned to death. Yusuf could see several mosques on fire and even the glint of fire from the synagogue from across the city.

The Frank stumbled back retching. He knelt and began to pray in what Yusuf knew to be latin as he recognized a few words from his days as a trader. “Your God cannot stop what is being done in his name. Tell me truly stranger is this what you wanted?”

With an insane look on his face the Frank suddenly charged at him. Yusuf tried his best to block his advance but his opponent had the strength of madness in him. 

“I never wanted any of this. I led a life of peace. Just kill me so you can release me from this curse.” 

His opponent swung wildly at him then and Yusuf ducked in time coming up under the Franks guard and thrusting his sword up. He dropped dead but before Yusuf could make the choice to either join a fruitless battle for the city or escape while he could a cry of anguish arose from behind him. Turning he saw his enemy struggle to his feet. 

“We have a choice to make Frank. We can join this battle for the city, likely be killed and hope others do not see our resurrection, or we can leave now before they discover what we are.”

“And what are we?”

Yusuf shrugged. “Either blessed by our respective Gods or cursed as you say to live until we have fulfilled our destiny.”

“I thought my destiny was to take the holy city in His name.” 

“And I thought mine was to defend it in Allahs name. It seems we are both wrong.” He paused then. “ Come now. I know a path out of the city where your people won’t have guards. “ 

His enemy hesitated then. “How do I know you aren’t just leading me to a pack of your men to kill me over and over?” 

“Well it is likely you would gain enough breath between killings to divulge the fact that I too cannot die. So I’d really be fucking myself. Come now my enemy.”

“Nicolò di Genova.” The man replied. 

“Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad ibn al-Kaysani, called al-Tayyib”

The man, Nicolò, blinks at him. “If I have to say all that every time I might just kill you again and go off on my own.”

Yusuf rolled his eyes, “Yusuf will do just fine.”

“Well then Yusuf, there is only one thing to do before we leave.”

“And what is that?”

With that Nicolò threw a dagger straight into Yusuf’s neck. 

When he awoke Nicolò was keeping watch. “Come now we should leave before it gets too dark.”

With a groan Yusuf got to his feet. “We should get supplies first, the desert can be quite unforgiving this time of year.”

The two made their way carefully into the outskirts of the city searching in houses that had already been abandoned. Picking his way through the rubble and bodies they managed to secure enough supplies for at least a week. They made sure to grab clothing as their own was currently soaked with blood and full of rips and tears from wounds that were no longer there. 

They carefully made their way to a small passage that Yusuf knew of. “Servants use this pass to get out of the city to the wells outside the city.”

“Wells your leader poisoned.”

“Seeing as your people are slaughtering everyone in sight, that will soon be their problem.” 

His companion fell silent again as they made their way carefully around the outskirts of the city and headed east. He knew of nowhere yet where they could both go and not be outcasts. It would be best if they both separated as soon as possible. But if they were spotted now they would both be labeled deserters and executed. Not that it would work but others had no way of knowing that. Yusuf led him towards the Mount of Olives and knew the insistent his companion knew where they were.

“The Mount of Olives, where Jesus went after the last supper, where he spoke to his disciples.”

“Also where we will find shelter tonight, come I know of a small cave.”

Yusuf led them to a small rock cropping he had found during one of his early travels to the city. He moved a few stones aside and gestured in, “after you Nicolò.”

“Am I to go first so you can stab me in the back?”

“Ahhh not tonight, it has been a long day, perhaps I will kill you again tomorrow.”

They entered Yusuf’s small hideaway. “Sometimes if I have a particularly valuable item or made a good trade I would store my wares here. Accommodations in the city can not always be trusted.” He made his way across the small cave where he had some tinder and a flint for fire. Busying himself with his task he paid no mind to his companion. They sat in silence as they broke their fast until Nicolò spoke.

“I think I shall get some rest now.” Nicolò pushed himself against the far wall and was soon asleep.

Yusuf sighed and then put out the fire for the night and sealed the entrance to their hideout. Then he settled in to sleep himself. In the morning they sat again in silence breaking their fast in the early morning light until Nicolò spoke softly.

“Where then shall we go now?”

“I plan to go home now, I suspect you will want to do the same, your family should be happy to see you.”

“I have no family, only the church.”

Surprised Yusuf turns to his companion and looks at him fully for the first time in daylight. The man has a weariness about his gaunt face that the scraggly beard did nothing to hide. The pale eyes are almost hauntingly beautiful in his dirty and blood splattered face. 

They had both changed their clothes before leaving the city in the hope they would be considered common folk. Yusuf was sad to leave his armor behind but not having a companion walking around with a giant cross on his shirt would make traveling easier. It was clear to him that the journey had been a tough one on his companion. He at least had been lucky enough to be in a fortified city with supplies. The marks of months long battle and starvation was clear on his opponent. He had no idea if his companion would even be able to make the tough journey ahead but they had to at least try. 

“Well then your church will be happy to have you back at least.”

His companion turned to him then. “You think I can go back to the church now after what I have seen? What I have done? How am I to teach the commandments when I myself have broken so many of them? There is no place for me in the church any longer. What about you Saracen?”

“You Franks and your slurs. You like to lump us all together because of the religion we practice. I am Maghrebi, I will return home and take my place again in my fathers business.”

Nicolò had turned away from him as he spoke. “You are lucky then, to have a place you will be loved as you grow old and…” Nicolò paused as he spoke then frowned. “What if we do not age? If we cannot be killed then we would have no reason to age.”

Yusuf frowned at this, he had not thought of that before and said as much. “I suppose time will tell. But it will at least be safe to go home and see them at least for a short while.”

Nicolò shrugged at that then repeated his earlier question, “ So where then do we go now?”

He hesitated before replying, “ We should avoid the main roads, they will be heavily traveled by both our forces. If we go head south through the desert then turn west we can reach Alexandria. It is a port city so the two of us traveling together will not go noticed.”

“Fine, but if I may have some time alone on the mountain before we go?”

“Not too much, we should depart before more deserters or refugees stumble upon us.”

At that his companion left him and Yusuf considered just leaving him there on the mountain. But for some reason he hesitated. The men may hate each other but they were all they had at the moment for better or for worse. He set about gathering his supplies and some money he had hidden away in the cave. He then went to a small spring they had found the day before to fill his water skin and hopefully wash up some. 

It was at the spring where he found Nicolò washing up himself. The water was running pink from where Nicolò knelt washing up. He remained still even as Yusuf approached. Coming closer he saw the man’s eyes rimmed red. He pointedly did not comment and knelt to wash up himself. When they left Nicolò had left the cross he wore around his neck by the stream. 

“Come, we have a long journey ahead of us.”

*** *** 

“So you said you killed each other for years. But it sounds like you were allies at least. Did you stop the on purpose killing and only kill the other while training?” Nile asks while Andy wanders away into the kitchen. 

Joe laughs at that. “No Nile not yet. We still very much hated each other then. It was all we could do at first to not kill the other. If one of us breathed too loudly while the other slept, a knife thrown at our lungs, drinking too much of our water supply? Chopping off of a limb. Why I remember one time, my dear Nicolò was much weaker than myself back then, he got so frustrated that I continued on in our journey when he could not that he drove a pole right through my chest. Told me maybe he would finally be able to gather his strength if I could just spend some time dying.You see we are able to force bullets, arrows and knives out with little difficulty, but a pole stuck in the ground? It was not such a pleasant night for me.”

At this Nicky winces, “Well I believe you got your revenge when you decided to see how I would survive getting tossed in the fire. Burns are a most unpleasant injury to heal from. Especially since you left me on the burning embers.”

Nile sat there jaw agog. “You did all that to each other? But but you are JoeandNicky NickyandJoe. Not torturers!”

“It was a different time Nile, and we were much different people then. I had so much hatred in my heart. But luckily I have had a lifetime to unlearn that hate, and a very patient teacher,” Nicky states gently pressing a kiss to Joe’s shoulder. 

Andy pops back in the room then with bags of Kurkkure she tosses at them. “Getting burned is very unpleasant, But getting staked is the worst, You remember that time what was it… the rise of the ottomans 1390 something?”

Nile mouths to herself ‘1390 something’ with a look of disbelief on her face.

“Oh no Andy you are thinking of the fall of Constantinople. The time the church fell on you 1453.”

“Wait, a church fell on you?” Nile’s inner history geek could not keep up with how casually they were talking about world changing events like it was just another Monday at work. Which, she guessed it was to them, and now her too eventually.

Andy just shrugged. “We got the people out though.”

“Okay okay so you really hated each other. How did you go from betting about killing each other to being JoeandNicky.”

“Well first we had to get over the language barrier.”

****** 

They never even made it to Alexandria. Not then at least. It had been a long hard journey though a scorching hot desert. He wasn’t even sure how many weeks or months they spent climbing over countless sand dunes and empty plains. They had had to hide out on occasion to avoid others fleeing and the packs of mercenaries that preyed on them. There had been more than a handful of deaths between them. Nicolò still scoots a bit farther back from the cooking fire then he needs to. 

The journey had been mostly silent. Well on his part at least. His companion had chatted on and on in a language he barely understood. Apart from a selection of curse words that is. Yusuf had earned himself a stab in the gut for saying something about his mother and a pig. Nicolò may not remember his own mother but there were lines that should not be crossed. 

They had stopped at a small settlement maybe a day or two walk to the city of Alexandria. Yusuf had thought to check with the locals to see if there had been any Frank army sightings near the city. He had stayed behind on the outskirts wary of his own reception in the town. It was a good thing he did because he was the first to spot the raiders. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He dropped their bags keeping only the weapons and ran as fast as he could into town to the marketplace screaming for Yusuf as he went. People came running out into the street as he ran yelling not understanding his commands to run and hide. Soon enough Yusuf heard his screams and joined him. 

There were ten raiders at least, which gave them very poor odds considering they were not on horseback like their opponents. An old man gestured at the crossbow he carried that they had taken from the fall of Jerusalem and was saying something and pointing at a roof nearby. 

“He says you should go on top of the mosque and shoot from there. They do not have many left that can fight, but they will gladly take our help.”

Nicolò nods and scrambles up the rooftop. He did have a better vantage point and was able to take down three of the men from his perch, and dehorse several others. By then they had gotten too far into the city and the risk of harming civilians was too great. 

Scurrying down from the roof he made his way into the fray. He tried to keep his guard up while fighting, but the months of starvation and brutal heat were taking their toll and he stumbled to the ground after felling his opponent. Across from him he saw Yusuf parry and then slice one opponent straight across the chest. Nicolò could see what Yusuf could not and that was a man sneaking up behind him while he tried to deal with two more opponents. It would not help them to get injured or worse killed here where they had no explanation for their healing and rebirth. 

Desperate he struggled up and grabbing a dagger threw it at the man approaching Yusuf from behind. It landed with a satisfactory smack in its target. Yusuf whirled around in surprise when the body fell almost on top of him. 

Nicolò nodded to him and went to assist a villager that was struggling to fend off another raider. In less time than he thought the raiders all lay slain. He stood with Yusuf panting in the aftermath of the battle. The raiders packs were being dug through by the townsfolk and the goods being divided. The horses were being led away by some farmers and town merchants. 

The villagers showered them with thanks and insisted they at least stay the night and break their fast. They also insisted they take two of the horses for themselves. Sadly there had been a villager killed in the action and they solemnly helped prepare his body. Others had been wounded but would hopefully make a full recovery.

Later that night Nicolò asked Yusuf what intel the villagers had given him before the attack. 

“There was news from Jerusalem. They know of the fall and my armies defeat. If I return home now people will think me a traitor or a coward. If I wait a few years they may believe I was held captive or narrowly escaped but was stranded in enemy territory and had to hide. So I guess I too am a man without a home.”

Some loud sobs distracted him from replying to that loaded statement. “The lady crying there,” he said, pointing, “What is she saying?”

Yusuf frowned and then spoke “The man killed was her husband. She is saying she has no one to work the farm now. Their son was sent to war and their daughters sent to marry. She is worried for her future as she has no other family left here.” 

Nicolò sat there in silence frowning. “Will you translate for me while I speak to her?”

***

Yusuf was silent for a moment looking at his companion. He had no idea what the other man was thinking or why he wanted to speak to the widow. “Yes. yes of course.”

Rising together they went over to speak to the grieving widow. Introducing them he learned the woman's name was Iesha and that her husband had a barley farm as well as a small flock of sheep.

Nicolò spoke then, “Tell her if she wants.. If she lets me, that I will work the farm for her.”

Yusuf was stunned into silence. Ignoring Iesha for a moment he turned to him “You desire to stay and help? Why?”

Nicolò huffed then, “Why not? I have no home. I have helped to cause so much death and destruction. I believe I can do some good here. This is as good a penance as any.”

Yusuf narrowed his eyes at him then. “Do you even know how to farm?”

Giving him an exasperated look he snarked right back, “Yes of course. At least a little. We had a garden at the church. I may not know this particular crop but I know the general basics of keeping plants alive. As for sheep?” he shrugs at this, “I am a fast learner. In any case I bet I could do better than you at farming.”

He was never one to back down from a challenge. Especially from this man. Turning back to Iesha he told her of Nicolò’s proposal. But included himself in the package. Iesha burst into tears ago and threw herself into Yusuf’s arms weeping in gratitude. 

Smirking at his enemy he told him that Iesha had accepted their help.

“Our help?”

“Well as I said I too can no longer go home. So I will stay and learn to farm better than you. In fact, I bet a year from now that my half of the crop will produce a better yield than yours.”

His enemy hmm’d at that before responding, “And what will my prize be if I win?”  
Yusuf thought for a moment. “Half of the others profits.”

“A quarter of them and you have a deal.”

“Only a quarter? Have you no faith in your own abilities?”

“In mine, yes. But it would be a shame to leave you with so little. After all you will have to have something to live on after I leave to sail the world with my profits.”

He barked out a laugh with that. Such bravado from his normally mild mannered companion. “Fine then. The bet is set.”

The next week was a flurry of activity, they helped to move Iesha into a small dwelling in town as she could not live on the farm with two strange men. Meanwhile they spent their time setting up their abode and learning how to manage the estate. 

After six months Yusuf had to begrudgingly admit he was impressed by his companion. The man threw himself into his work, rising with the dawn and coming in after the sunset, often covered with muck. They had several heated confrontations over personal hygiene, finally agreeing to keep a small pot outside to use before they entered the house. Yusuf may or may not have drowned his companion if only to try and get him at least a little clean. Nicolò had balked at visiting the local hammam at first fearing he would be unwelcome. Yusuf finally persuaded him to visit at a time that would be mostly devoid of people. His eyes grew wide at the surroundings and after that it was much easier to persuade him to visit.

As for himself he was finding farming to be much harder than he expected. His back ached from bending over and his arms were sore from the unfamiliar acts of using the different equipment. The harvest had occurred before their arrival so that left them with the yard task of ploughing the fields in preparation of a new crop in the fall. The planting of the new crop was brutal, he still didn't know how Nicolò’s rows were so straight and why he didn’t get as many weeds. The addition of their horses helped but he found his skill set was not quite suited for farm work. 

After one disastrous moment with the sheep he decidedly left that area to his companion, who had a gentle way with the creatures. To this day getting trampled to death by sheep is still one of his more embarrassing deaths. He himself stuck to the kitchen instead making them their humble meals. He also made Nabulsi cheese from the milk from their sheep and sold some at market where he also sold excess from the garden that Nicolò had expanded. Yusuf persuaded some local women to teach him weaving and he was able to use the wool from the sheep for yarn, another thing he could sell at market. 

Several bitter arguments had erupted over who could claim the profits from the market. Yes Yusuf was doing the trading but Nicolò argued he was doing the work in the garden and taking care of the sheep. They agreed eventually on splitting the profits evenly, though not before Nicolò had somehow managed to toss him down a well and threatened to keep him there if he got any hint that Yusuf was cheating him from profits. 

Yusuf had started to teach him arabic, often using mealtime to point out the names for food and other household items. His companion never said much in response to the teaching, mostly nodding to himself then repeating a different word in latin. In this way they taught each other more vocabulary in their native tongues. 

One day Yusuf was out near some date trees they had on the corner of the property when he saw Nicolò with some local children. They were shouting at his companion and at first he started towards them with concern. Then he paused listening to what they were saying. He edged closer not wanting to be noticed. The children weren’t shouting, they were singing. A nursery rhyme to be exact. And Nicolò was singing along with them. When they finished the song they ran around him pointing at things and shouting the words for them. They were teaching him Arabic he realized as he watched Nicolò laugh among them. Nicolò finally ushered them away along with what Yusuf realized was pieces of his midday meal, so he could go back to tending to the flock and he turned catching Yusuf’s eye. He offered him a tentative smile before going back to work. 

Maybe, just maybe his enemy wasn’t as bad as he thought.

That night for their language lessons instead of describing objects or reading from a book he instead told Nicolò a story he remembered his mother had told him. His mother had been the third wife of his father and the only one that had provided him with sons that lived to adulthood. She had been a gifted storyteller and all the children would flock around her to hear her tales. Yusuf himself was the fourth son and the one his mother doted on the most. Out of all her children she said Yusuf was most like herself, an artistic soul. His mother was a gifted artist and patiently taught him as a child how to paint with the pigments his father and elder brothers would bring back from around the world. She specialized in pottery making and her pieces were sought after in his home city. When he grew up he would bring trinkets for her from his travels. Out of his whole family his mother was the one he missed the most. 

When the first harvest came and they sold their bounty at market they learned that they had both come out even in the bet. Yusuf was a skilled trader and he had no idea how Nicolò had managed to best him in this feat. When he had tried to follow him to see if he was cheating him somehow Nicolò had managed to get the drop on him and had left him tied up in the fields for a few days with the sheep as penance for spying. The only thing to do of course was to renew the bet for another growing season. Not ones to poison the villagers by sabotaging the food itself they would leave traps for the other in the fields, doing anything they could to best the other.

They were in the hammam a year or so and several bet re-negotiations later after their arrival, when Nicolò brought up an issue that had clearly been bothering him. 

“Why did they let me stay? I’m a foreigner. One who marched with an army sent to invade and take their land. Yet the people here have been nothing but welcoming, they even trust me with their children.”

Yusuf turned towards him. The preceding year had done his companion good. His face and frame wasn’t as gaunt with starvation as it was when they had arrived. The months of actual food and the labor had built a layer of lean muscle on the man. When they had arrived at the hammam Nicolò had disappeared and returned with a freshly shaven face. Yusuf had stared at him for some time, though he tried to hide it. He could finally see the strong cut of the man's jaw and the skin it exposed made his pale eyes, such a rarity in this region, stand out even more. 

Time had drastically changed his opinion of Nicolò. He now knew him to be a quiet gentle soul that clearly struggled with the weight of his previous actions. Anytime anyone in the village needed a helping hand Nicolò was the first to volunteer even if it meant getting little sleep due to the upkeep of their own place. But for Yusuf to now be obsessing over the man’s looks in a way he had only ever felt about women previously? This was something else entirely. Something he was very firmly ignoring at the moment. 

“Yes you did terrible things not so long ago, but you are also a good man. They can see that, just as I can.”

Clearly surprised at his words Nicolò turns to him and opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Frowning he closes his mouth then turns away. “You are very kind Yusuf, but that is not true.” Abruptly rising he leaves Yusuf alone frowning after him.

*****

A good man? How on Earth could Yusuf see him as a good man after everything they had done to each other. After him knowing what he had done in the war. It was true yes that they had not killed one another in quite some time, in malice at least. He doesn’t count the frustration kills, if Yusuf meddles with his crop one more time he really will leave him in the well. 

Settling down in this little hamlet had been restoring for both of them. The hard work made him so exhausted most days he had no chance to dwell on his actions. He disappeared most sabbath days and spent the time on his own trying to reconcile his faith. In turn he helped on the day of Yusuf’s sabbath and did his best to cook a meager meal in accordance with his faith. 

They had both been teaching the other their native tongue and Yusuf had even been kind enough to draw the letters out in the sand so he could one day read it as well. It had not been lost to him that his companion had artistic talent and one day in the market he had managed to barter some parchment and some ink in exchange for his labor during the harvest. He had simply left it on their small table they ate their meals at without saying anything. But a few days later a small bag of seeds for Nicolò’s garden showed up also with no comment.

So lost in his own thoughts he ran right into another person on his way home. Stammering out an apology he looked up and then froze. A band of merchants he hadn’t seen before were blocking his path on the road. 

Swallowing hard he greets them “May I help you?” He manages to get out in Arabic.

“What’s a Frank like you doing here? All by yourself at that?” The men ask as they slowly surround him

He notes that the men are all well armed, while he himself has nothing but a small dagger that there was no way he could grab quickly now with the men watching him.

“Heading home,” he replies warily, slowly turning around to see them all.

“This isn’t your land, you don’t belong here. I should kill you where you stand, but we do need some help on our ships. Our last batch of help didn’t listen to directions very well so they got a quick ‘swimming’ lesson.” At this they kicked Nicolò’s legs out from under him. “You have a look of defiance in your eyes. I think you will need a lesson on authority first.”

Nicolò sees one of the men draw out a whip from his pack. He swallows hard. There was no getting out of this. His only hope was that someone from town would pass along the road and come help him. The first strike hits him squarely along the back and he flinches but doesn’t scream, doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction. This only spurns them on and kicks and punches start landing between the strikes of the whip. He isn’t sure how long this goes on when he hears a voice.

“What’s going on here?” calls Yusuf. He had never been so relieved to hear the man's voice in his life.

The men stop their beating and look over at the new arrival. Nicolò takes the pause in the beating to catch his breath and to slowly go for the dagger in his boot.

“Move along stranger, this is none of your concern.”

“Now see this is where you are wrong.” Yusuf replies hand on the hilt of his sword.

“What, you know this pathetic creature?”

“That ‘pathetic’ creature there is my friend. And if you know what is good for you you will leave us be.” Yusuf replied drawing his sword. Nicolò raised his eyebrows at the use of the word friend. He knew they were allies, maybe even friendly allies but he wasn’t sure when they had crossed the threshold into friend territory. But then he realized how they hadn’t had an argument in months, how they would leave tiny gifts for each other, how their training resulted in less killing and more learning of techniques, and how their language ‘lessons’ had turned more into just learning about their pasts and even their hopes for the future. So maybe they were friends, they just hadn’t acknowledged it out loud yet.

“You are friends with this Frank? Then that means that you too are the enemy. A traitor to your own people. Instead of making you a slave you should die for this.”

The men made the critical error of taking their attention away from Nicolò to advance on their perceived new threat. As soon as they did so he sprang into action launching the dagger at the nearest merchant. He then ran towards another knocking him over and taking his weapon. He couldn’t keep track of Yusuf during the brief battle as the men rounded back on him but once the last man was felled he turned to where he last saw him. Yusuf lay on the ground a healing stab wound pouring blood out of his gut. But the worst part was hearing a shout from a villager that he would bring the healer and seeing him run towards town. 

“Fuck, Yusuf we have to leave now before they find you healed. They believe you to be wounded, perhaps even mortally wounded. We have to leave now!” 

Groaning Yusuf struggled to sit up taking the hand Nicolò offered to help him up. Holding his side together he said, “We should take what we can from the men and then hurry to the farm. We can head to Alexandria from there. I am only sorry for one thing.”

“And what's that… friend.”

Yusuf’s grin lights up his whole face upon hearing the term fall from Nicolò’s lips. “Our bet. We have not sold our recent harvest yet.”

Nicolò snorts. “Come Yusuf, I’m sure I will be able to deal with working in a city better than you.”

Yusuf throws back his head and laughs at that and Nicolò blinks at how beautiful his joy is even if they are both spattered with blood. “You forget I worked as a merchant in many cities before I went to war. You will be poor within a week of living in Alexandria. Now come we must go.”

***** *****

“So you guys fell in love on a little farm?” Nile interjects.

“Respected yes. But love? Love? Love takes time. And that’s one thing we would soon learn we had in spades.“ Joe replied.

Nicky smiles at him softly. “We had barely begun not hating one another. I still had so much hate in my heart, so many prejudices to unlearn. But the farm was where we learned we weren’t enemies, that we were human, not some evil creature as our generals had taught us. Alexandria was where we would spend the next five years of our lives in a tiny house near the docks. That little home is where we fell in love, though I believe Joe was well on his way before we left our old village.”

“One of us has to be the romantic one habibi.”

“You have never been shy about that fact tesoro.”

“So if no one won the harvest bet what happened in Alexandria? And why hadn’t Andy found you by then.” Nile questioned then.

“Travel wasn’t as fast back then Nile, and for a time I… we couldn’t tell where they were. A nondescript village somewhere in a desert isn't a lot to go by. It wasn’t until they moved to Alexandria that we had any idea where they were. And there skirmishes and other things to take care of along the way. The world was in a very tumultuous time.” Andy replied.

“And at the time Nicky and I had no idea what those dreams even meant. We knew we were dreaming of strange women fighting in an exotic land but we didn;t know they were even real people. I thought they were perhaps visions of a past life, that we were now inhabiting the spirit of those fierce warriors. Then one day they were on our doorstep.” Joe stated with a wistful smile.

“I thought he was a mad man for that theory, but I didn’t have any better explanations other than guardian angels I believe.” said Nicky chuckling.

“Only you Nicky would think Andy would be an angel.”

“Well I hadn't met her yet.”

Andy threw a pillow at Nicky’s head for that comment. He caught it easily and launched it at Nile instead. 

“Hey man you almost spilled my drink,” Nile said indignant.

“We need to work on your reflexes Nile, they should be better.” Andy frowned.

“I’m drinking alcohol here Andy!”

Joe snorts at that. “That is hardly an excuse Nile, Andy did some of her best work blind drunk, she was the reason Catherine defied Henry and gained sympathy instead of murder. Shame you couldn’t do more for the other seven boss.”

“I’m sorry did you just name drop Henry the 8th?”

“Guy was a dick, we should have just beheaded him, would have saved Europe and us so much trouble.”

Nile pointed at Andy. “We are talking more about that later.” she then turned back to Nicky and Joe. “You’ve given me a nice meet cute but that still doesn’t explain the bets.”

“The youth of today are so impatient, are they not amore mio?” Nicky says snuggling into Joe.

“Fine, fine, “ Joe waves his hand and continues with his story

***** *****

Alexandria was a bustling hubbub of activity and expansive marketplace. Yusuf took great pleasure in leading Nicolò around and showing him the spice markets and trying different foods. They were able to trade what they stole off the merchants for enough money to get a little place near the docks. Neither of them brought up the ships leaving daily that would take both of them home. 

Nicolò managed to get a job as an apprentice apothecary. He still expressed a desire to make amends and help people to try to rid the echo of his previous actions. Yusuf got a job at the docks and badgered the ship masters into teaching him to sail. He spent his free time drawing the ship builders building a fleet and making his own designs for a ship he hoped he could build someday. He would share his drawings with Nicolò but decidedly not tell him that he dreamed of sailing the open seas with him, of finding water that mimicked the color of his eyes, of finding an island oasis where only the two of them would live. 

One day after half a year in Alexandria Nicolò turned to him and said “You’ve been learning to sail.”

Not sure where this was going he replied that he had.

“A client of mine has two fellucca’s. You've been learning to sail, but I’ve been sailing for as long as I can remember. I think we should have a race. I bet you, hmmmm, I bet you a book that I can sail better than you.”

“This is a suckers bet.”

“Only if you lose.” Nicolò offered with a smirk and then rose to prepare dinner.

Watching him move about the kitchen, something dawned on Yusuf. Nicolò was cooking with ease. He wasn’t sure where and when he had learned but his skills had increased exponentially. He had seemed perfectly content to let Yusuf do the majority of the cooking before so what was different now? Now that he thought about it Nicolò had been cooking more often this past month in particular. Unless this was Nicolò’s way of trying to tell him something and he had not noticed until now.

***** *****

“The end of that bet ended in one sunken ship and our first kiss.” Joe replies proudly.

“It’s not my fault my rigging broke.” Nicky protests.

“I know it seems like Nicky here is the calm thoughtful one but beneath all that my love is terribly competitive. He fails to mention he tried to make a turn around a break that would be impossible even now with modern boats and equipment. Lucky for him I am an excellent swimmer and rescued him.”

“And then thought that would be the perfect place to profess your love.”

Joe just shrugs at that. “You made a very arresting sight all wet and pouting. How could I not?”  
Nicky just pecks him on the lips. “The bets continued in that vein. Challenging one another just to see if the other would do it, the prizes were not as important then as just being together was. When Andromache and Quynh met up with us then the stakes were raised. By then we had been in Alexandria for almost five years. Some of our neighbors had begun to comment that we looked as young as ever. When they arrived we took it as a sign and left.”

“Andy had so much to teach us back then, from languages, to fighting, to survival skills. Quynh was particularly brutal with survival techniques. Remember that time she left us half buried in a bog Nicky?”

Nicky shuddered at that. “It took a month for the smell to get out of our clothes. But clothes were so expensive back then and neither of us had learned to sew at that point.”

“Did Andy teach you to sew?” Nile asks leaning forward and then dodges as a coaster was thrown at her head by Andy.

Joe laughed long and hard at that. “Andy has never been one for the homemaking skills. Except for wine making and distilling. No Quynh was the one that could not only sew a ball gown fit for court but also kill you five ways with the needle she made it with.”

A sad smile passed between the two men. Then Nicky gets a sly grin on his face. “Andy remember when you needed a weapon fixed but the only master blacksmith in the area wouldn’t sell to you so we offered to make you one instead?”

Andy laughed at that. “Both these idiots were so sure they could make me something better. It… it hadn’t been long after we stopped the search for Quynh and I knew part of it was to make me feel better. Joe was better at making the weapons look nicer but he would get so distracted by a sweaty Nicky pounding the anvil, that he kept burning the steel. Metal was so expensive back then too. But eventually they got their shit together and were able to supply us with a steady supply of deadly weaponry, at least until the use of gunpowder increased in warfare.” She tips her head towards the wall where the weapons were propped. “Joe made most of those. And what he didn’t make he repaired.”

“After that I convinced Andy to head south with us, get out of rainy England and head to my homeland. There was a rumor of a rebirth happening and I knew my love would enjoy spending time basking in artistic glory.” Nicky commented.

Nile’s whole face brightened at the mention of the Italian renaissance. “Please tell me you met some of the greats like DaVinci and Michelangelo. And that you aren’t going to tell me some story that will like, ruin art for me.”

Andy starts sniggering at this and tilts sideways onto the floor as her laughter increases. “Take a closer look at Nicky’s profile Nile. They don't call it a roman nose for nothing.”

Nicky turns bright red at this. And hides his head in the crock of Joe’s neck where he begins the tale his voice slightly muffled as Joe soothingly rubs his hand along his back for support.

***** *****

Nicolò took a deep breath as their ship docked in Genoa. It still smelled the same even after hundreds of years. The marketplace bustling with new food options as trade had expanded across the globe. As they made their way south they stuffed themselves with the new Italian version of spaghetti and hunted for truffles among the forest paths. When they reached Florence he saw the sheer joy on his beloved face. For so many years their lives had been of nomadic warriors, moving from one conflict to another helping when and where they could. The plague years had been particularly rough, even his skills as an apothecary had been of little use and they had watched helplessly as it ravaged the land. 

Posing as wealthy merchants, they found themselves a house purchased from a noble on the edge of the city. Andromache posing as his wife, lest she live in a house of sin. Yusuf went around trying to find an apprenticeship with a master. Andromache warned him of becoming too known, and forbade him from self portraits or painting herself or Nicolò. If he left a record of them then it would be dangerous to them in the future. This hardly dampened his spirit and he came back from work covered in paint or shavings of stone almost giddy. 

Nicolò himself went around the city exploring and charming the nobility with his travel tales. But he soon became bored as he could not truly do work he enjoyed posing as a wealthy landowner and merchant. Andromache at least took enjoyment in dressing down and going to the local watering hole and picking fights. Finally one night, hot and irritated he snapped at Yusuf.

“I bet you I can get more artists to work with me then you can.”

Yusuf blinked at him confused. “But you don’t even do art.”

“Yes, I am aware. But anything is better then listening to Ricci again explain why his ships are better than the Bertoli’s.”

“If Andromache hears of this she will kill us both. You know she worries about our legacy. “

“Please all these artists are so consumed with being innovative and portraying the glory of God that they will hardly focus on my looks. Besides we will outlive them all and you know how Andromache loves to steal things and have bonfires.” He can tell by the consideration on Yusuf’s face that he had convinced him.

“And what pray tell does the winner receive then?”

“Hmm, loser has pick up Andromache from the pub duty for 6 months.”

“3 months and you have a deal hayati.”

Finally with a purpose at hand Nicolò found pleasure in his days at last. Armed with coins and wine he went around to the different artist enclaves charming as many as he could. On the rare chance he ran into Yusuf he made sure to lay it on thickly batting his eyes as he had seen the women do and flirting as necessary. The nights after those occasions led to many dark delights and some of the most inventive sex they ever had. 

Andromache (who indeed was thrilled at the prospect of a future bonfire) told him one day that Yusuf and him were dead even in their bet that at that point had lasted for decades. They hadn’t spent all their time in Florence instead traveling about between Rome and Venice and participating in the battles as armies eager to invade and take the natural resources of Italy descended. There was one artist both of them had been avoiding but desperate times had arrived for Nicolò. And Yusuf had begun to play dirty warning off artists from using him as a muse.

Michelangelo had recently come back into town and had quite the reputation as being very hard to work with and a stingy asshole as well. Armed with this knowledge and extra coin he went to where Michelangelo had been staying. He had been rehearsing his speech on his way there but all that turned to be for naught when he was allowed in. The artist had taken one look at him and then snapped his fingers beckoning him towards him. 

“Take off your shirt.”

“Pardon?”

“Take off your shirt, and come stand here by the light.”

Gritting his teeth he went and did what he was told.

“Yes yes you will do nicely. They think the idiot Simone da Fiesole ruined my marble but I can fix it. You will be the perfect stand in for David.”

So began a most tortuous two years. Michelangelo worked almost constantly and refused to pay Nicolò more than the occasional meal even though he had more than enough money to live comfortably. When he managed to escape at the end of the days he had to decline numerous advances by the artist. He would say he would have a better understanding of his anatomy if he had had the chance to explore it himself. Desperate he even asked Yusuf to become one of Michelangelo’s apprentices but his love said he was the one that got them into this mess and that he had faith he would handle it. 

One day the city's gonfaloniere Piero Soderini came to view the work as it neared its completion. He expressed great excitement and pleasure, though he said he thought the nose was large. Michelangelo seeing the gonfaloniere below and knowing that he could not see properly, mounted the scaffolding and taking his chisel dexterously let a little marble dust fall on to the gonfaloniere from his pocket, without, however, actually altering his work. Looking down he said, "Look now."

"I like it better,"said the gonfaloniere, "you have given it life." 

Nicolò barely contained his mirth at the gonfaloniere. Though still insulted at the accusation that his nose be large enough to offend. When the statue was unveiled he practically begged Andromache and Yusuf to leave the city. He didn’t even care that for the next three months in London he followed Andromache from bar to bar.

****

Nile is sitting there, bottle of rum long abandoned gaping at him like a fish. “Are you saying you were the model for David. The David?”

“He took many liberties, and my toes are not so crooked. Besides it is blasphemous to compare myself to such a figure as David.”

Nile just sits there pointing at him, mouth moving but no sound coming out and then rests her head in her arms. “Who else in history are you going to ruin for me? What are you going to tell me Andy banged Shakespeare and Romeo and Juliet is based on their love?”

“That’s nonsense Nile. If anyone had influence on old Bill it was Joe here.How else do you think he got so nauseatingly good at spouting romantic verses at Nicky here?” Andy replied.

“It’s true. He was a much better writer than actor. Though one had to admire how long he stayed with it, given society's contempt for actors then. And a very patient and open minded man. I spent many a night on a barstool extolling Nicky’s virtues to the man.” Joe reminisced. 

“To the point he wrote a sonnet for you just to get you to shut up.” Andy snarked

“You have a sonnet written after you.” Nile flatly stated.

Nicky pipes up, “Technically it’s two, sonnet 46 and 47.”

Joe suddenly stood up and then dramatically went on one knee in front of Nicky grasping his left hand and then started to recite to him, 

_Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,  
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;  
Mine eye my heart thy picture’s sight would bar,  
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.  
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,  
A closet never pierc’d with crystal eyes,  
But the defendant doth that plea deny,  
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.  
To ‘cide this title is impannelled  
A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart;  
And by their verdict is determined  
The clear eye’s moiety, and the dear heart’s part:  
As thus: mine eye’s due is thine outward part,  
And my heart’s right, thine inward love of heart._

__

__

_Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,  
And each doth good turns now unto the other:  
When that mine eye is famish’d for a look,  
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,  
With my love’s picture then my eye doth feast  
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;  
Another time mine eye is my heart’s guest  
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:  
So, either by thy picture or my love,  
Thyself away art present still with me;  
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,  
And I am still with them and they with thee;  
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight  
Awakes my heart to heart’s and eye’s delight._

Andy just rolls her eyes at Joe’s theatrics then reaches for the remainder of Nile’s rum and chugs. Nile politely claps unsure of how she is supposed to respond, averting her eyes as Nicky yanks Joe into a passionate kiss. After several minutes she loudly clears her throat and the two finally separate.

Joe just shrugs. “I can’t help it that the love of my life has such enchanting eyes. Besides it was a great help for the vows for our next wedding.”

”Just how many times have you been married by now?” Nile asked Joe.

The two men look at eachother and shrug. “Whenever the opportunity presents itself. We’ve done every continent. Now every time a country legalizes gay marriage we do it there. But before it was not so easy, it was done mostly in secret. If we could persuade someone to officiate we would. If not Andy would do the honors.”

“Joe ever the romantic learned how to smith just so he could make us rings. We keep them in a box in our home in Malta.” Nicky squeezes Joe’s hand at this and Nile feels a pang of jealousy at the look they exchange. That kind of love she may never get to experience herself, but at least she can view it in these two lovestruck fools. 

Joe tears his gaze away from Nicky to continue with their tale. “Anyways the bets were a way to alleviate boredom at first. When you have eternity ahead of you you have a lot of time to master skills. But it was always more fun if we could bring in Andy here and make her to something she clearly hated. Like music.”

“Joe, no.” Andy threatened.

“Joe yes. What great icon of history did Andy carrupt now?” Nile perked up. 

“I was only trying to give justice where justice was due. Who knows what Nannerl could have done if her bastard of a father hadn’t controlled her?” Andy sat there petulantly crossing her arms like a stubborn kid being denied dessert.

“Nannerl?” Nile prompted.

Joe clarifies for her, “Maria Anna Mozart, Wolfgang’s older sister. Quite the musical genius herself. We saw her and her brother perform a show as child prodigies. Andy here must have had a barrel to drink before the concert because she declared that ‘anyone could play like that.’”

“So being the good friends we are, we bet her a year of rest if she could perform a concert in front of an audience.” Nicky’s lips began to twitch. “Andy spent the next five years trying to persuade Marianne to first teach her and then to just defy her family and leave to tour. But she was nothing if not devoted to her father. And Andy was perfectly dreadful at the harpsichord. Joe here is quite the talent at the fortepiano but Andy could get booed off the stage even if the audience was blackout drunk.” 

“We had a nice vacation in London before going to help in the revolutionary war. We made quite the trio of spies for America.” Joe said with a grin.

Joe continued, “In any case the bets didn’t start to involve money until Booker joined us. He was so miserable for such a long time after he stayed with us. At first we started to just bet like we normally do with training and talents since Booker still felt uncomfortable with all of us sharing our money. Said he felt like he hadn’t earned it yet,” he said with a regretful smile.

“It was darts that really got him into betting with us. The game of darts, well modern darts, had just been invented and Booker was hooked. Maybe it was all the time he spent in the pubs. Maybe it was something new to take his mind off the world. He had the gall to think that he would have better aim than us. ” Nicky asserted.

Andy’s smile was a bittersweet now. “He was trying so hard to impress us with his skills. Just determined to beat us at something. Book got so damned mad when Nicky just picked up the darts and bullseye one after the other. He forgot we had lived in a time with no guns so throwing sharp objects was our speciality. From then on he would ply us with as much alcohol as he could beforehand just to have a tiny bit of a chance.”

Nicky paused taking one last gulp of wine then frowned, shaking the empty bottle. “I think we were somewhere in Aleppo during the second world war when we stumbled upon this tiny village. We were helping refugees escape the nazi invasion of Greece. This tiny enclave had set up a camp and were just trying to survive. One of them was making baklava for the allied soldiers. Andy tried it and said it reminded her of when she first had it. Which we assumed meant when it had likely been invented. I knew from our travels that many cultures had adapted the recipe in their own way.” 

Tossing the empty bottle behind the couch Nicky continued, “I told Booker as much and he said he bet I couldn’t find a version of baklava she hadn’t tried before. Eventually we expanded it to include food from many different cultures.”

“Like the food from today at the market.” Nile frowned at the trio, “You all realize you could have just told me the last couple paragraphs for an answer.”

Andy gloated at Nile’s annoyance. “Trust me getting the story like this gave you that pair’s ‘meet cute’ in a much condensed version. You would have heard it eventually, likely in much much more detail, more detail then you would ever want.”

The pair grinned on their loveseat completely unabashed. “There is no shame in love Andy. I would have thought the free love revolution of the 60’s taught you that.” Joe teased. 

Andy and Nile both rolled their eyes at that. “Come on Nile, we should retire before they start fucking in front of us.” Andy said dragging a stumbling Nile away. 

“Wait, they would do that? Have they done that? Oh they have, haven’t they?” Nile’s voice faded as she tried to lead a much drunker Andy down the hall.

Joe turns in the seat to Nicky pouting, “We didn’t even get a chance to mention 1883 to Nile and really scandalize her.”

Nicky nuzzles into Joe’s neck planting a few kisses along his collarbone. “You really think telling her about that time in Malta would be appropriate now? Give her a few decades at least.”

Joe runs his hands along Nicky’s back tugging him onto his lap. “Maybe so.. But there is no reason we can’t do a replay of the events for ourselves.”

****** *****

Yusuf comes rushing into their Malta house full of excitement. Andromache had left with Sebastian to teach him sailing. When they took off Sebastian was already looking distinctly green and had sent him a pleading look as they slowly made their wave from the docks. He had cheerfully waved back at him and chuckled when he could see Sebastian's mouth moving likely cursing him. Yusuf had spent some time at the market in town and found all the women gathered around a stack of books. Peering over their shoulder his eyes widened at the title he saw. Tossing some money down he grabbed a copy and then headed home.

He was particularly proud of their little safe house here. They had managed to keep it for centuries now, leaving the land with caretakers and only returning after a long enough time to not be recognized. Or in recent cases to defend it when yet another power tried to take over the tiny island nation. They kept some of their most valued possessions here in this haven, smiling at the thought of the box of their rings. It had been a few decades he definitely needed to propose again soon. 

“My darling Nicholas, look what I found at the market! Someone translated to english _The Kama Sutra of Vātsyāyana_!”

Nicolò came out of the kitchen drying his hands. There was a smudge of flour across his cheeks, and to Yusuf he had never looked more beautiful. 

“Didn’t we see some of that scripture in Khajuraho?” he replied, greeting him with a kiss. 

“Indeed we did omri. The ladies at the dock said some English man named Burton translated the texts.” He drags his love over to the window seat where they start flipping through the book. 

“Is it just me or has he turned parts of this book surprisingly prudish?” Joe asks.

“It’s not just you, it has to be the Victorian influence. Besides we don’t need a book to instruct us.”

“Of course not, I just thought it would be fun to see if there was anything new to try.”

“Why my dear are you trying to seduce me? When you know I am making gnocchi for dinner?”

“Only if it is working amore mio?”

Nicolò smiled at that and leaned in to capture his lips in a luxurious kiss. “Just your luck I haven’t put the pot on to boil yet.” He drags Yusuf off the window seat and they start to stumble on their way to the bedroom. 

Remembering something from the book Yusuf pushes his beloved against the wall. “Patience.” he whispers, reaching down to tug Nicolòs flour streaked shirt up and off. He knows this skin as well as his own. Marvels that he gets to have this day after day. That this wonderful man will let him touch him this way and countless others. 

Nicolò moans against him and leans over to yank Yusuf's shirt off. “What are you thinking tesoro?”

Yusuf replies while tugging the laces of Nicolò’s britches loose and then shoving them down.  
“Do you remember sammukha?”

“The oil is in the kitchen. Undress and bring it to me.”

Yusuf quickly does as commanded, pausing a moment to take in the picture of his husband flushed and panting against the wall, his cock already hard and being stroked lightly as he waits for Yusuf to come back.

“Such a beautiful picture you make ya amar. Your skin glows like moonlight. While your eyes glitter like stars.”

“The moon will be up by the time you enter me if you keep reciting verses at me.” Nicolò takes advantage of his proximity and yanks him flush against him. Yusuf whines at the contact and spends a moment to lazily rut against him. Eventually he manages to get some oil in his palm and it’s time for Nicolò to whine as Yusuf’s finger enters him.

Yusuf spends countless moments preparing his husband reveling in the pitched gasps and moans his lover makes. Finally when he is satisfied that he is ready he oils himself then hitches one of Nicolò’s legs up and around his waist. When he enters him they release twin groans of ecstasy. He leans in to kiss him and almost loses himself in that simple pleasure.

He is brought back to himself when he feels Nicolò drag his nails down his back hard enough that he knows he will have marks later on. He shudders forward and then starts to move. Soon the house is filled with nothing but their panted moans and the sound of their flesh. Knowing he is close Yusuf braces one hand on the wall and uses the other to reach between them to try and bring Nicolò to completion. Only a few strokes later Nicolò shudders and clenches around him, and he follows quickly after that. They both collapse in a puddle on the floor trying to catch their breath. 

Nicolò smiles over at him and then asks “How many of the positions do you think we can get through before Andromache and Sebastian get back?”

*****

“I hear a man published a book called _The Gay Kama Sutra_. Do you think we could learn anything new from it?” Nicky asks innocently.

“I can assure you that we could probably teach that author a thing or two.”

“True. Hey I saw a news report on the world's hottest pepper, the Carolina reaper. They say that if you eat three pounds of it it can kill you. Do you think we could convince Nile to test this theory?”

Joe just stands up and starts walking towards the bedroom. Nicky trails behind him “What about tattoos? Do you think if we bribed Andy she would help us convince Nike that we can get them? I bet you we can. Andy is a sucker for my tiramisu.” 

His husband may call him an incurable romantic but his husband has an incurable problem with betting. He is just ever so grateful that the biggest bet he ever won was winning over Nicky’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it!
> 
> Thank you to The Old Guard Big Bang 2021 for this wonderful challenge.  
> Thank you again to my wonderful artist and the amazing video that was created.
> 
> I tried to be as faithful as I could in terms of historical references even though some of the terms used to describe the people are no longer worked. Which is why I had Joe correct Nicky on what he would likely refer to himself as. If I got anything glaringly wrong please let me know.  
> I wish I could have more teammate action and fun in the fic but it just didn't come out that way while writing. Hopefully in the future I can add more teammate shennaigans.
> 
> Some translations:
> 
> Gonfaloniere: Italian was a highly prestigious civic magistrate position in renaissance Italy  
> Tesoro: italian “darling”  
> Amore mio: Italian “my love”  
> Habibi: Arabic “my love”  
> Hayati: Arabic "my life"  
> Omri:Arabic “my life, my darling’  
> Ya Amar: Arabic “the moon”
> 
> Some notes on my fun facts
> 
> The story about the 'fixing' of David's nose by Michelangelo comes from a book by Giorgio Vasari "Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects." Whether his account is true is debatable since not everything in his book passes the sniff test. But Michelangelo was known to be have a temperamental attitude and for being a penny pincher. Several of his later works were identified as his because he was known to add eight packs and weird toes on his works.
> 
> Mozart did indeed have an older sister that was also a musical prodigy. She stopped performing not because of her brothers genius but because she had reached a marriageable age. No known compositions of hers exist.
> 
> I just thought Shakespeares Sonnets 46 and 47 were pretty and I could totally see Joe waxing on and on about his beloved's eyes to anyone that would listen.
> 
> Again thank you all for reading!


End file.
